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Thompson, T. J. U. (2008) 'The role of the photograph in the application of forensic
anthropology and the interpretation of clandestine scenes of crime', Photography
and Culture, 1 (2), pp.163-182.
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The role of the photograph in the application of forensic anthropology and
the interpretation of clandestine scenes of crime
Dr Tim Thompson
Senior Lecturer in Crime Scene Science, University of Teesside.
School of Science & Technology
University of Teesside
Borough Road, Middlesbrough
TS1 3BA.
[email protected]
(01642) 342535.
1
Abstract
Forensic anthropology is a very visual subject, demanding as it does the
inspection and examination of the deceased human body for the purposes of
assigning an identity. One important aspect of the visual nature of this subject is
the use of photography for recording the physical features of the body and the
context of any clandestine deposition. The use of photographs and image in
forensic science is a wholly under-theorised topic; although it is fundamental to
the practice of the subject it is not discussed beyond the practical application at
the crime scene or in the mortuary.
However, issues such as image ownership, motivation of the photographer, the
purpose of the photograph and the interpretation of the image all impact upon the
ability of the forensic anthropologist to conduct his or her work, to situate the
discipline within society and the world at large, and to provide a narrative of the
context of death. This paper will use case-study examples to discuss these
issues within the framework of more general crime scene science, and consider
how developments and uses here might impact on any application within forensic
anthropology. It will explore how the photograph taken within the forensic
anthropological arena is not the objective construction that forensic practitioners
like to believe, but that it is influenced by, and in turn, influences the processes of
human identification and the resolution of the context of death and
disappearance.
2
Visualising forensic anthropology
Forensic anthropology concerns itself with the examination of human remains,
usually decomposing or skeletalised, with the aim of discovering the identity of
the deceased individual. Traditionally this has involved the study of the dead, but
the remit of the discipline has broadened recently and forensic anthropologists
are now being asked to comment upon the identity of living individuals as well.
Initially this seems incongruous, however the expertise of the forensic
anthropologist lies not only in osteology, but in human development and variation
– principles equally applicable to the living as the dead. Few other disciplines can
offer this understanding of the human body to a forensic investigation, which has
led many anthropologists to be asked to examine photographs of suspects and
CCTV footage. In many ways, the traditional work of the forensic anthropologist
can be referred to as forensic osteology, as it involves the thorough examination
of skeletal remains followed by the determination of biological sex, age-at-death,
ancestry, stature and pathologies. This collection and collation of information is
referred to as a biological or osteological profile. The creation of this profile is an
inherently visual process, since it involves the visual assessment of a variety of
morphological features and structures throughout the skeleton. At all stages
photographs will be taken of the key skeletal features used in creating an
osteological profile (for example, the fusing epiphyses or some mark of trauma).
Discussion of the role of the forensic anthropologist and the development of the
discipline is beyond the remit of this paper, and the interested reader is directed
3
to the likes of Thompson (2003), Cattaneo (2007) and Brickley and Ferllini (2007)
where this subject is considered in far greater detail.
Photography has always played an important part in forensic anthropology.
Indeed, it was the publication of a number of photographs that helped the initial
development of the discipline in the United Kingdom. Up until this point, the
police authorities had not utilised the services of archaeologists or
anthropologists in any serious or formalised manner. Thus, when photographs of
the crude excavations of Melrose Avenue in London (the location that Dennis
Nilsen, at that time Britain‟s worst serial killer, buried the remains of this victims
during his five year campaign between 1978 and 1983) and the garden in
Gloucester (following a search of Fred and Rosemary West‟s Cromwell Street
house in 1994) were seen, it was archaeologists, with their expertise in body
recovery, who contacted the police to offer assistance in subsequent scenes
(Hunter et al., 1996; Thompson, 2003). Forensic anthropology benefited, and
developed, from these embryonic links and initial collaborations – indeed, one
cannot examine the human remains and create a biological profile until the
remains have been successfully recovered from the ground. Figure 1 shows the
excavation of the Gloucester back-garden in action; it was the clear lack of even
the most basic of archaeological principles, such as an appreciation of the
importance of plotting or stratigraphy, which first caused great concern to
archaeologists and anthropologists. Hunter et al. (1996) briefly discuss these
cases in what is seen as the first significant book on forensic archaeology and
4
anthropology published from a UK perspective. Here, they make the argument
that appropriate archaeological techniques in cases such as these allows for
much greater information to be extracted from the site. This information does not
just include skeletal remains, but other information of evidential value such as
personal effects, bullet casings and even shoeprints from the grave floor and
spade marks from the grave sides.
Forensic anthropology is, therefore, a young discipline in the UK and the past
decades have seen much rapid development in this country (Cattaneo, 2007;
Cox, 2001). However:
“Although the development of anthropological research has a very
long history in many areas of Europe, over the last 60 years the
development of specialist individuals working in forensic
anthropology has been slower than the advances … seen in other
areas of the world.”
(Brickley and Ferllini, 2007; 4)
As such, much of the subsequent development has concerned technological
application or the raising of awareness within the police forces, while little
discussion has developed in terms of the theoretical, social or ethical
ramifications of this work (Thompson, in press). We therefore have many new
methods of constructing an osteological profile from skeletal remains, but limited
appreciation of what that means for Society at large. In Thompson‟s discussion of
5
the visual archive in forensic anthropology (in press), he notes that although
photography is a vital component of anthropological practice, and that it
permeates the entire subject, often proving to be the most obvious product of its
practice, it remains wholly under-theorised. This paper makes a contribution to
this sparse discussion with the hope that others will contribute to, and develop,
this topic.
Photographic developments in crime scene science
Any discussion of the use of photography in forensic anthropology must be
placed within a more general context of crime scene photography.
Photographs associated with a scene of crime are generated from two arenas –
the scene itself, and subsequently in the laboratory, during the analysis of any
recovered articles of evidential value (Bell, 2006). These photographs now come
in a variety of formats, from 35mm negative to Polaroids to digital images (Bell,
2006). Crime scene photographs are used in a number of ways, including to
record the aftermath of an event as found, and the comparison of a variety of
physical features (such as a shoeprint found at a scene and the suspected shoe
itself). Evidence–matching using photography is a standard crime scene science
process, although with the exception of facial superimposition, it rarely forms part
of the forensic anthropological toolkit. This is because the techniques used to
6
create an osteological profile do not require that specific features of a skeleton be
compared with each other. Even in cases where positive identification is being
achieved by matching a skeletal feature with some ante-mortem record (for
example, the comparison of a fracture line with medical records), photography is
not regularly used. There is an interesting temporal component concerning such
matching, seeing as a comparison can occur between photographs which are
separated by many years. There is often an urgency to take photographs
following the discovery of a scene of crime as this needs to be completed before
the scene is altered by the forensic investigation (like an archaeological
excavation, a forensic investigation of a scene of crime destroys the very thing
being examined). This urgency does not necessarily extend to the comparison of
photographs or items recovered, since once they are recorded on film the original
object is no longer required. Finally, it can also be said that forensic photographs
have a vital role to play in the corroboration or refutation of statements created by
both suspects and witnesses (Jackson and Jackson, 2004). Such photographs
can, for example: be used to confirm whether a suspect matches a witness
description; be used to plot the direction and speed of cars from tire tracks in
vehicular accidents; or be used to record soft tissue damage which can then be
used to suggest whether cutmarks were self-inflicted or caused by another
person (it is not uncommon for individuals to cut themselves and then accuse
another of that). Photographs of the results of crimes and violence provide a
permanent record; one that can survive longer than the physical results or
scenes themselves. Although photography is a standard tool in forensic
7
anthropology and more generalised crime scene science, it is not always without
controversy (for example, debates still surround the appropriate use of
photographs following sexual assault, particularly with regard to the use of photocolposcopy in adult victims and the balance between political/gender issues and
independent clinical judgement [Brennan, 2006]). All of these applications can
only be successfully achieved if photographs are accepted as being objective,
bias-free and not to serve any party associated with the investigation.
The adoption of photographs of scenes of crime by the courts has never been
appropriated generally, and it is interesting to note that a very real concern
following the adoption of full colour photography in the judicial sphere was that
they may frighten the courts (Conrad, 1957). However, this proved to be
unfounded in one of the earliest reported cases of the use of colour photography
in a crime scene setting; that of Green vs. City and County of Denver in 1943.
Here the crime was the selling of putrid meats; colour photography was exploited
fully in a comparison between fresh meat with that suspected of being rotten. The
court wholly accepted the validity of the colour photographs and found the
defendant guilty (see Conrad, 1957 for more details). It is worth noting here, that
not all photographs will be accepted for submission to the court. The trial court
judge must at all times balance the potential importance and significance of the
photographic evidence against the negative impact it may have on the fairness
and impartiality of the proceedings; that is, does its probative value outweigh any
prejudicial impact? (Douglas et al., 1997; Robinson, 2007). The most common
8
examples of photographs to be rejected by the courts are those of severe
gunshot injury (see Robinson, 2007) or entomological activity (the use of
arthropods in the estimation of time-since-death, which invariably requires
photographs of such insects in situ on decomposing bodies; see Greenberg and
Kunich, 2002). Indeed, Greenberg and Kunich (2002) cite State v. Klafta (the
suspicious death of a 16-month child) as one example of a criminal case where
an appeal was launched stating that the entomological photographs unfairly
prejudiced the jury. In this case, the appeal court dismissed these concerns.
Often line drawings or black-and-while photographs are used as an alternative
for the jury. The latest development within crime scene photography to negotiate
for judicial acceptance is that of digital photography. This represents to the most
significant debate in crime scene photography since the introduction and
adoption of colour photographs. Although digital photography is rapid and allows
for many more photographs to be taken, concerns regarding the ease of image
manipulation have resulted in a very slow acceptance of this technology by the
courts, and a questioning of its ability to be objective (Hulick, 1990; Jackson and
Jackson, 2004; Robinson, 2007). A similar argument exists in photojournalism.
The debate surrounding the use of crime scene photographs extends beyond
their use in court. Of key concern is their use in the mass media. Gorer‟s
observation (back in 1987) that natural deaths were becoming increasingly
shrouded in prudery, while violent deaths were an increasing feature of fantasies
offered to the public through the mass media, is still true today. Crime scene
9
photography is a significant contributor to these offerings. Furthermore, it has
long been argued that seeing images of death threatens the rationality and social
management of modernity unless those dying are deemed „foreign‟
(Konstantinidou, 2007). In the media context, this may explain the relative
numbers of images of the victims of war crimes in Iraq or Darfur, compared with
the relative sparsity of similar from the Balkans, or from crimes from the United
Kingdom. It is worth noting here that much anthropological research has
focussed on the segregation and sanitisation of death in contemporary Western
culture. Parker Pearson (1999) describes it as the „prettification‟ of death and
although Konstantinidou seems to be suggesting that death in war contexts is
anything but „pretty‟, both authors are highlighting different means of removing
death from the experiences our everyday Western lives.
Finally, photographs taken by criminals themselves can prove to be particularly
useful in locating clandestine scenes of crime. Rowe (1983) provides the
example of the „Moors Murderers‟. Ian Brady and Myra Hindley are infamous in
Britain for a series of child tortures and killings in the early 1960‟s, which resulted
in the burial of a number of bodies in Saddleworth Moor, on the outskirts of
Manchester. Key to the prosecution was the fact that the suspects took a number
of photographs showing themselves with the captured children and then
subsequently at the graves that they had made for their young victims. These
photographic records were discovered in the weeks following the arrest of Brady
and Hindley in a locker in Manchester Central Station and were used by the
10
police to locate the bodies of the victims and link the suspects to these horrific
crimes. In a similar way, photographs taken by individuals of themselves
breaking the law are being used progressively more by the police, and they are
now being found increasingly on the internet – particularly file-sharing or social
networking sites such as YouTube and MySpace. These are often serious
crimes, and include violent behaviour, public disorder and vandalism.
Interestingly, in one complaint made to the Press Complaints Commission
(http://www.pcc.org.uk) regarding the publication of stills from a YouTube clip
with the name of the child offender (criminals under the age of 16 cannot be
named in the British press) was not upheld as the child himself had uploaded the
clip to the public-access file-sharing website and attached his name with pride,
thus negating the usual legislative protection. Photographs from these contexts
differ from standard forensic photographs in that their aims and objectives are
different (an issue which is explored further below). It can be argued that the key
difference lies in that forensic photography emphasises the crime while this
material displayed for public and peer consumption simultaneously emphasises
the criminal (who is often visible in the images). Recently, German police, in
conjunction with Interpol under the auspices of Operation Vico, have used new
digital software on photographs to remove distortions to the face of a paedophile
in the act of abusing children. On 19th October 2007, 10 days after releasing the
image of the face to the global media, Christopher Neill was arrested in Thailand
and charged. Both before and after images, in addition to further case details,
11
can be found on the Interpol website
(http://www.interpol.int/Public/Children/Default.asp).
The ‘objective’ forensic photograph
Within the forensic and crime scene investigation arena, photographs are
routinely taken to produce a permanent record of a scene prior to the removal of
any artefacts from it. This is not the same as producing a record of the scene as
it was left by the perpetrators. The scene will have been disturbed and had a
variety of taphonomic processes (that is, environmental factors such as animal
and weather activity) at work on it, ensuring that what the investigators or court
see, in any image presented to them, is different to the scene at the time of
body deposition. This is particularly significant if the body being recovered was
exposed on the ground‟s surface – animal predation can distribute a
decomposing body over tens or hundreds of metres. Case work undertaken by
this author in woodland around both Glasgow and Edinburgh focussing on the
recovery of bodies decomposing on the ground surface, has shown that it is
entirely possible for body parts to be moved such distances. In each case, (which
were both potential suicides) the role of the anthropologist was to complete a
skeletal inventory at the scene and to advise on locating missing elements.
Unfortunately with surface deposits of this nature, there are occasions when
small body parts are never recovered.
12
Clearly, the Crime Scene Investigator, who is usually the first to examine the
scene, does not merely walk into a clandestine scene of crime and start taking
photographs. A number of processes must be undertaken to ensure the judicial
acceptability (or the objective nature) of the photographs produced. A log is
created of every photograph taken. Appropriate lenses are used to ensure a
natural view of the scene (therefore wide-angled lenses are not used and the
photographs are taken from eye-level). The Crime Scene Investigator can apply
additives to highlight features that are not clearly visible in natural light, such as
luminol reagent to expose patches of blood, ultraviolet light to expose injuries on
the skin (Jackson and Jackson, 2004), or excessive flash in fire scenes to
counter that fact that charring readily absorbs light (Redsicker, 2000). Although:
“To be admissible in court as evidence, an image or photograph
has to be a fair and accurate representation of the scene”
(Robinson, 2007; 570)
the above are all accepted methods of creating differences between the scene as
it is and how it appears on film.
In forensic anthropology and crime scene science generally, there is the
assumption that a photograph is more than a mere representation of the scene,
in much the same way as Konstantinidou argues for in photojournalism:
13
“… the theory of the photograph as an analogue of reality has been
abandoned … the common-sense belief in the photograph as a
picture of objective reality … as a form of eyewitnessing remains
deeply embedded”
(Konstantinidou, 2007; 148)
Even earlier, Conrad (1957) noted, at the time of the emergence of crime scene
photography, that although black and white photography was accepted as if it
were the real scene, it is actually a two-dimensional, abstract medium. He later
went on to argue:
“Once we forget its novelty and glamorous aspects, we shall accept
color photography as the closet proximation to reality as nature‟s
own glow”
(Conrad, 1957; 323)
Although one can appreciate his argument, in the mid 1950‟s there was no
technical difference between the make up of black and white photography and
that of colour. This is because both produce colouring as a result of a chemical
reaction and artificially produce results entirely dependent upon the conditions of
the developing chemicals. Perhaps it is only now with the development of digital
photography and a new kind of image development can we begin to question
whether Conrad‟s statement holds true (although we must acknowledge that
although digital photography negates the use, and thus the inaccuracies, of the
14
chemical development process the use of printers or monitors can create
variance between the photograph and the object being photographed).
Hulick (1990) argues that the scientific origins of photography permitted the
notion of the objective photograph to spread, from the Victorian era to the current
day, as a result of a new method of mechanically rendering space and detail. The
development of this new technology coincided with the advance of scientific
naturalism, which assumed the existence of pure facts, even if one could not
identify these facts at the time of looking (Green, 1984). The analysis and
observation of these pure facts depended upon the removal of the observer‟s
prejudices and subjectivities and the advocation of Empiricism (Green, 1984).
The ability of photography to precisely and accurately mirror reality was sufficient
to prove to early users the existence of an objective truth inherent in the
photograph (Hulick, 1990). Thus photography was perceived by some as a
passive, non-interventionist, means of collecting scientific knowledge (Green,
1984) and real-world details were precisely reproduced in a method that became
predictable and automatic relative to other graphic arts such as illustration
(Hulick, 1990). Hulick argues (1990) that such photography is unique in that it is
the only art form that gained strength through the absence of human touch.
Although a little vague, Hulick is likely intimating that it is the mechanical camera
that records or captures the image – although it is still under the control of the
human photographer. It is this historical connection between science and
15
photography that has resulted in the permeation of the notion of scientific and
forensic photographic objectivity to this day.
A key example of the application of this principle of photography-based empirical
study to the anthropological world of this late nineteen century period, are the
portraits taken to highlight key morphological features associated with race and
criminality in the study of Eugenics, which was part of the study of early
Anthropology. In both cases, it was felt by anthropologists that any observed
physical differences could be directly linked to differences in mental capacities
and moral fortitude:
“Criminality was redefined as a natural and hereditary condition of a
distinct human type, associated with a general deterioration of
physical and mental health and a state of congenital imbecility and
moral depravity”
(Green, 1984; 10)
While Cesare Lombroso, key advocator of this approach to criminology, in his
influential book Criminal Man of 1876 stated plainly that:
“The criminal [physical] type is so strong as to force one to wonder
whether some of the portraits [sent for his assessment] are no more
than different shots of the same person … the abnormal
characteristics that predominate among born criminals, especially
16
murderers, are … a large jaw, a scanty beard, enlarged sinus
cavities, a shift gaze, thick hair, jug ears … asymmetry, femininity,
sloping foreheads, and prognathism”
(Lombroso, 2006; 205)
This approach to studying mankind led directly (that is, the examination and
recording of physical differences in people) to the development and acceptance
of eugenics by the intellectual class as a desirable social policy. Furthermore, it
also assisted in the justification of colonialism and slavery since many of the socalled criminal morphologies were present in indigenous populations. Despite the
reliance of this approach on portrait photographs, it has since been shown that
photographs of this type were carefully and subtly composed to fulfil a series of
codes and conventions (Green, 1984), for example with direction that the
subjects looked in (into the bottom corner), the angle of the photograph and the
clothes they were made to wear (or not, as „sexual perverts‟ were often seen
naked in their photographs). In other words, they were not the product of
objective impartial empiricism. Both Green (1984) and Horn (2003) have
interesting examples of these forms of photograph.
Photographic fakery is not a new phenomenon; it has always been a matter of
concern for crime scene scientists. Rowe (1983) discusses the lengths that
experts went to prove that a number of images of the carnage of the American
Civil War were staged or creatively edited (including a series of famous shots of
Gettysburg and a series by George N. Bernard). Konstantinidou (2007) argues
17
that the fakery of photographs representing conflicts can even be extended to
include the biased nature of the employment of some photographs, whether this
is in their framing or their usage in the media. In terms of deployment in the
printed media, it can be argued that any perceived objectivity (or objective
meaning) that a photograph may have, is negated when framed with text , and
placed within the overall layout of the media presentation (such as a newspaper,
magazine or website) (Konstantinidou, 2007). The first stage in creating this bias
is by simple censorship of which photographs are allowed in the media; for
example, the photographs vetted by the Office of War Information in the Second
World War (for example, images of dead US soldiers (except towards the end of
the war in order to counter domestic complacency – and only then were „heroic‟
deaths permitted), „friendly-fire‟ incidents, soldiers partaking in vulgar or sexual
behaviour and soldiers suffering mental stress were not permitted in the national
press; Clark, 1997) or the lack of images of the injured US soldiers from Iraq
(which partly contributed to the shockwaves created by Michael Moore‟s
Fahrenheit 9/11 documentary). Konstantinidou (2007) is referring to newspapers
in her essay, and it is intriguing to think that the potential effects of this bias are
both insignificant and significant, in that it is generally assumed that newspapers
have an underlying political affiliation or bias, and that the readership of the
newspaper is collusive in this (insignificant bias within the readership) while
acknowledging that the said readership of the newspapers is so large (significant
bias within the wider population). However, we can raise the same charges at
publications with a far greater implied objectivity. Research has shown that even
18
criminal justice textbooks rely on specific image types as shorthand for crimes or
criminals, for example the general image used for the „typical criminal‟ will be of a
Black/Hispanic male, handcuffed and in state-issued clothing (Burns and
Katovich, 2006). On the whole however, these texts provided photographs of
offenders that correlated with the statistical evidence for the race and gender of
the offender, except where highly melodramatic images are used in association
with suspects and defendants charged with murder (Burns and Katovich, 2006),
for example, where images of dishevelled suspects in handcuffs being dragged
into the court house are used. This is significant, as these publications are used
by students of criminal justice, and will therefore play an important role in
founding perceptions of the criminal system (Burns and Katovich, 2006).
Both wet-film and digital photographs are regularly utilised by the courts today,
but one could argue that actually the courts themselves accept that crime scene
photographs are not objective – if they were, one wonders how they could
prejudice proceedings as Douglas et al. (1997) argue above with regard to the
vivid content of the photograph? There is an innate acknowledgement of the
power and agency of such photographs when used in these circumstances that
undermines the objective veneer placed on such photographs by that very same
court system. There is much evidence of the persuasive manner of photographs
to influence the decision-making of members of the public – and this is true for
crime scene photographs too. Participants of mock trials exposed to vivid, colour
autopsy photographs were almost two-times as likely to find the accused guilty
19
(Douglas et al., 1997). This may be due to a dysphoric mood created in the
jurors, or a sense of moral outrage that demands that people are held
accountable (Douglas et al., 1997). In their discussion of images of bereaved
mothers, Valier and Lippens (2004) refer to this form of emotional impact in the
viewer as a punctum, a little wound. This is a concept first discussed by Roland
Barthes in his famous book Camera Lucida (1982). In essence, Barthes was
describing an element of a photograph, often some aspect captured
unintentionally by the photographer, which reached out and connected with him
in a more personal way than the image as a whole. Valier and Lippens continue
to argue that in the case of photographs of bereaved mothers, we will all
experience a similar punctum which will move us all, allowing the photograph to
become a more sensuous experience, and thus influencing our decision-making.
This also connects back to the means in which viewing crime scene photographs
can influence the outcome of criminal trails discussed by Douglas et al., (1997).
This raises an important question: at what point does the camera lose its
objectivity when its output shifts from documentary to creative art? How is it
possible to tell, from the photographs produced, which of the two was the
intention of the photographer? Indeed, can the same photograph fall into both
camps? Certainly photographs from the same series of clandestine forensic
anthropological scenes of crime can. The aftermath of the crimes against
humanity in Kosovo is a pertinent example of a region that has been
photographed for both forensic and artistic purposes. In 1989, Slobodan
20
Milosevic began his racist rhetoric against the 1.7 million Kosovar Albanians, as
part of his bid to draw Kosovo, which had experienced a fair degree of autonomy
up until that point, back fully under the banner of Serbia. Part of this campaign of
terror was the execution of thousands of Kosovar Albanians, and the dumping of
their bodies in mass graves. Following the 1999 NATO campaign, forensic
personnel entered the country and began to accumulate evidence of this blatant
crime against humanity. British artist Melanie Friend, in her volume No Place Like
Home (2001) presents us with a range of photographs from this country. Many of
them include the sites of clandestine burial or the victims of the atrocities who
lost family and friends. Her images are poignant and haunting, but are, in their
content, often very similar to the countless comparable photographs taken by
those deployed to the area to assist in the criminal investigations. Often Friend‟s
photographs are of the exact same scenes or locations as those taken by the
crime scene personnel, but their intent is considerably different. There is also the
question of where the photos will be viewed and by whom. Both of these will be
significant in terms of selecting the content of a photograph from a forensic
scenario. One key difference, as Hulick (1990) comments, results from the ability
of the artistic photographer to achieve an emotional impact and style by investing
their photographs with their own personal sensibilities, whether they are moral,
political or aesthetic. The other key difference is in surrounding these
photographs with contextualising interviews rather than fixing them in a small 6”
by 4” spiral bound booklet as is the case with crime scene images. In this case, it
is the framing of the photographs, as Konstantinidou (2007) alludes, that allows
21
the viewer to interpret essentially similar images in very different ways.
Furthermore, if the photographs are consumed in book form it is a far more
intimate experience for the viewer – indeed, the spiral bound scene of crime
booklet is rarely viewed on ones own but instead surrounded by a group of other
forensic experts all simultaneously commenting on what they see. These points
also touch upon the separation between being paid to photograph (forensic) and
being paid for the photograph (artistic). However, the need to successfully sell
and distribute artistic photographs to their intended audience may also result in
multiple influences relating to specific standards and disciplinary practices acting
upon their work in a similar way to those that influence forensic/crime scene
photography. When we finally revisit the American Civil War photographs
discussed by Rowe (1983), one questions whether they fall not into the
documentary but into the creative art category (because their inaccuracies
counteract their use as fact-based evidence), even though they were taken at the
time and location of the incidents in question.
Photography and the forensic anthropologist
It has been argued elsewhere (Thompson, 2003; in press) that forensic
anthropology is somewhat of an impure discipline, formed as it is by contributions
and influences from a number of other disciplines and interested parties. Most
significant are the influences of the public, the police, the legal system, the
22
educational system and the media. Each group demands a very specific outcome
from the photographs taken by the forensic anthropologist, whether it is
photographs showing the identities of the deceased, photographs demonstrating
evidential value, or photographs showing scenes of interest to the newsconsuming public. However, when we more closely examine the repositories of
photographs in forensic anthropology, we can see that actually there are just
three archives; the Judicial, the Public and the Private. Photographs that are
used by any of the five influential groups are extracted from one of these three
archives. For example, photographs used during anthropology lectures are
invariably from the Private archives of practitioners, while the photographs
needed by the police and legal system are stored in the Judicial archive.
Photographs taken by forensic anthropologists for the Judicial archive are much
the same as those taken for other crime scene contexts; the same constraints
and requirements are placed upon them to ensure the fabled objectivity required
for admission to court. For the forensic anthropologist, these images tend to be
focussed on highly specific skeletal elements or features. If an anthropologist is
claiming that an individual is male or 25 years old, it is necessary to have
photographs that show the appropriate indicative features. Figures 2 and 3 show
the nature of such images in forensic anthropology. The photographs hold a
great deal of evidential information, but are problematical to interpret without the
necessary anthropological training. Furthermore, without any other visual cues it
is impossible to know the context of these images, other than the fact that they
23
originate from a forensic setting. In fact, Figure 2 is the result of an exhumation in
Chile following the suspected torture and deposition at sea an individual –
however the results of this examination were consistent with drowning as a
cause of death, and not torture subsequently disguised as a drowning. Figure 3
is in fact photographic proof that the bone sent for examination is from the
mandible of an archaeological terrestrial mammal. These two classic images
represent quite different events separated by considerable time and space.
Photographs of clandestine scenes of crime and stored in the Public Domain are
rarely taken by forensic anthropologists. Strict controls over the nature of
photographs taken at the scene or in the mortuary means that those images
taken are rarely suitable for the public, or indeed, would be of limited interest.
The rare times when this is not the case is when a forensic anthropologist
publishes some form of case-book, usually for the interested public, and uses
their own photographs to illustrate the information that they are describing, or
worse, to titillate potential readers. An example of this difference would be a
comparison of the photographs in Clea Koff‟s The Bone Woman (2004; a memoir
of her time as a forensic anthropologist in regions of war and genocide) and Bill
Bass and Jon Jefferson‟s Death’s Acre (2003; a review of the development of the
so-called „Body Farm‟ in Tennessee). The former provides photographs that
nicely help to communicate the largely sensitive prose. Koff has attempted to
provide a book that discusses her personal feelings and emotions throughout her
challenging time in the field, rather than focus on the explicit details of the cases
24
in question. She was 23 years old when she first deployed to Rwanda and her
book is based on her journal writings of the time. The latter features images of
bones and bodies that add little to the already extravagant commentary. What is
interesting is that the photographs of the former are often more graphic than
those of the latter, yet the more successful deployment and contextualisation of
them makes the graphic nature of the photographs seem more acceptable to
many anthropologists.
Photographs situated within the Private archive tend to dramatically differ in style
and content compared to those in the Judicial archive. Instead of specific isolated
skeletal features we tend to see photographs of people or practice. The people
can include our colleagues as well as those who live in the region, while
photographs of practice tend to show the forensic or crime scene procedures
(such as the excavation of the remains or their cleaning in the mortuary) that one
is performing or contributing to. These differences between the photographs of
the Private and Judicial archive are a consequence of the different requirement
of these photographs; they have no evidential value but are instead mementos of
a time spent away from home, working in unusual and testing circumstances,
with people one may never have met before and may never meet again for
example. This is an aspect of photography from scenes of crime in war zones
that Konstantinidou (2007) does not fully appreciate in her paper. She lists 3
central themes for war scene photography – the conflict per se, civilian life in the
war situation, and human casualties and costs. This may be true of published
25
photographs, but there is also a whole archive of photographs taken by those
more directly involved in the war itself whereby the central theme of the images is
as a memento, whether it be associated with humiliating the enemy (i.e.: AbuGhraib) or reminding us of friends and colleagues that we have worked with.
Often the photographs of colleagues taken for the Private archive show the result
of working long hours in trying conditions. Figures 4 and 5 demonstrate just this.
In the former, a scene of crime officer sits waiting for the next body to be brought
up from the mortuary freezer so that he can begin the next round of evidential
photograph collection. This mortuary was based in Pristina in eastern Kosovo,
and received hundreds of bodies from the surrounding area. When this
photograph was taken, our team of forensic pathologists, anthropologists,
radiographers, technicians, evidence officers and scene of crime officers was
reaching the end of a 10 hour day. The work in the mortuary was physically
demanding due to the nature of the bodies and the heat, but less so than the
work in the mass graves itself. For those not used to this work, the active
mortuary is an assault on the senses. In Figure 5 a team member stops for a
moment of contemplation during the intense sorting of rubble, debris and human
remains following the crash of a passenger plane into a baggage handling facility
at Linate Airport, Milan. Tonnes of material needed to be sifted through in order
to ensure that all human remains could be recovered. Thanks to the work of such
team members every body from this incident was identified and repatriated.
These photographs were taken as a reminder not only of those who the author
was deployed with, but also of the emotional connections that one makes with
26
the incident that takes it beyond the mere collection and collation of biological
profiles of the deceased. This again connects with the notion of the punctum as
discussed by Barthes (although in this example it also highlights his suggestion
that this feeling can result from memory too). Looking at such private
photographs in chronological order from the beginning to the end of a
deployment serves to create a visual narrative of that time that is important for
the psychological well-being of the practitioner. This relates somewhat to the
work of Leary (2002) who highlighted links between crime scene evidence and
literary theory. She proposed that each piece of evidence constituted a
conjunction which could be linked together to develop the story of the crime, in
much the same way as a piece of literature uses conjunctions to link together
sentences of a story. She argued that the revealing of each forensic morsel
forced the investigator to constantly reorient their position and be responsive to
new interpretations (in the same way one does when reading a novel and new
information within the story is presented to us). In this way, each photograph can
be linked together to tell the story of the anthropologist‟s experiences. Although
photographs within this archive are for the individual practitioner, they are often
shared with friends and family; in many ways like an alternative family album.
This usually occurs because the deployment experience is so different from
normal life experiences that our photographs are a way of explaining it to our
families; that is, making it seem less like an abstract or phenomenological set of
experiences or events. Figures 6 to 9 fall into that grouping; these are mementos,
27
photos taken to allow others to understand the work that we do and the reasons
behind it.
The presence of three distinct photographic archives does not mean that
photographs initially stored in one archive cannot transfer to another. Indeed
Figures 4 and 5 were locked away in this author‟s own Private archive for many
years before now being placed in the Public archive. Volumes such as that by
Ellroy and Wride (2004) explicitly and unashamedly transfer scenes of crime
images from the Judicial to the Public archive. Here Ellroy and Wride present a
large collection of crime scene photographs from the vaults of the Los Angeles
Police Department. Although it is possible to argue that there is an important
historical lesson to learn from these images (a lesson regarding best crime scene
practice), this approach is tautly associated with a number of ethical dilemmas,
and in the case of Scenes of the Crime (Ellroy and Wride, 2004) the key debate
is the appropriateness of selling a book filled with photographs of corpses. This
action impacts on a number of issues such as any right to self-determination of
representation after death, the lack of consent given by those in the photograph
(in the UK written permission would be required from these individuals if they
were living) or the fact that often it is vulnerable demographics that are exploited
in this way (similar issues surround the use of the dead in medical and forensic
research and education). Indeed, this is also a common criticism of the use of
Private archive images in case-books such as those mentioned above: is it
acceptable to earn money from photographically detailing cases with other
28
peoples‟ misery and suffering? Friend‟s book (2001) arguably creates a greater
sense of tragedy regarding conflict in the Balkans without the use of photographs
of the deceased, than Koff‟s (2004) does with them.
Conclusions
The argument that forensic photography is objective is constructed upon the
premise that scientific knowledge is autonomous and independent of the context
in which it is used and that it is not the product of, nor is it intended to serve,
specific interests (Green, 1984). As has been argued above, this is clearly not
the case. Since such photographs are taken with the specific purpose of
assisting the courts, they instantly lose their objectivity. Therefore, it is vital for
the forensic anthropologist and crime scene scientist to appreciate that
photographs cannot be truly objective, and instead have meaning constructed
within them as a result of photographic language and convention combined with
more sociological signs and codes, such as dress, landscape and body language
(Burns and Katovich, 2006; Clark, 1997; Konstantinidou, 2007), and memory and
death (Barthes, 1982). These cues can be extended to include the influence of
the use of a scale in the image or the association of the photograph to its
identifying number to the crime scene log mentioned above. Clark (1997) notes
that this is a two-way exchange, and that the viewer also has an expectation of
the visual style, cues and shorthands contained within these photographs. These
expectations are based upon previous life experiences, experiences of
29
examining photographs in the past, the context in which they are currently
examining the photographs (for example, in a judicial setting or at home) and so
on. Burns and Katovich (2006; 111) neatly refer to this as appealing to the „visual
literacy‟ of the viewer. It has also been stated that a key benefit of crime scene
photographs is that they communicate quickly and accurately (Pasqualone,
1995). However, the term „communicate‟ is significant here; if something is being
communicated, then its meaning can by its very nature be interpreted in a
number of ways – both as intended and unintended by the author. Naturally, the
degree of visual literacy, education and cultural experiences in an audience will
affect this. Interpreting images from forensic anthropology or clandestine scene
of crime requires the navigation of the fields of evidence, politics and
humanitarianism (Green, 1984; Konstantinidou, 2007). Such photographs are
complex, multilayered and most definitely filled with meaning (Konstantinidou,
2007).
Furthermore, the photographs that forensic anthropologists take while working at
a scene of crime, whether they involves one or many bodies, reveal much about
the case itself, but also the context within which they work. Each time these
photographs are examined, they impact immediately upon the practitioner and/or
other interested parties resulting in a new appreciation of the subject and the
nature of that work. This in turn could influence the processes of human
identification and the ability to resolve future clandestine scenes of crime.
30
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank the editors for the invitation to contribute to this exciting new
journal and their extremely useful and interesting comments. Dr Becky Gowland
(Department of Archaeology, Durham University) contributed some very helpful
comments on earlier drafts of this paper. Many thanks too to the following people
who I have been lucky enough to work with in the field and who helped provide
access to the photographs used in this paper: Putra Bridge, Prof John Hunter
(Institute of Archaeology and Antiquity, University of Birmingham), Martyn Kellett,
Becky Masterman (Taylor and Francis, Inc), Alan Puxley (Kenyon International
Emergency Services) and Dr Claudia Garrido Varas (Special Unit of Identification
of Detained and Missing Persons, Forensic Service, Chile).
31
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Figure Titles
Figure 1: The excavation of the back-garden in Gloucester. Note the seemingly
haphazard manner of the excavation; often in these situations enthusiasm got
the better of the inexperienced excavators. (courtesy of Yorkshire Post
Newspapers).
Figure 2: A typical forensic anthropological photograph taken for evidential
purposes. (courtesy of Dr Claudia Garrido Varas).
Figure 3: A typical forensic anthropological photograph taken for evidential
purposes.
Figure 4: A scene of crime officer rests while waiting for the next body to be
brought from storage to the autopsy table. This work is seemingly relentless with
tens of bodies examined every day.
Figure 5: A team-member reflects during the processing of an aeroplane crash in
Italy. It is often forgotten that these events have profound effects on those
responding to the incident as well as those who have lost loved ones in it.
37
Figure 6: Cleaning the clothes of the deceased, Kosovo 2000. This site of drying
proved to be an important site for identification by grieving relatives. (courtesy of
CRC Press, Inc. – Thompson and Puxley, 2007).
Figure 7: Cleaning the clothes of the deceased, Kosovo 2000. This site of drying
proved to be an important site for identification by grieving relatives. (courtesy of
CRC Press, Inc. – Thompson and Puxley, 2007).
Figure 8: The devastation following the tsunami in SE Asia, Thailand 2005.
Forensic anthropology had an important role to play in a context that resulted in
the failure of other standard identification techniques. (courtesy of Putra Bridge).
Figure 9: One of many walls adorned with the faces of the missing, Thailand
2005. This represents the primary aim of forensic anthropology, to place a face
and name to a body. (courtesy of Putra Bridge).
38